A/N This is an old story, written in July 2006, for the Inkspots community. I never put it here and I don't remember why. Anyway, I was prompted to put it up because there is a lack of Maia fic. This was a fic-pic collaboration between Skerries and me. Please see my profile for a link to her gorgeous picture.
Maia sits cross-legged, the grass beneath curling away from her body. She shades her eyes with one hand and sends tendrils of dark eco at a passing butterfly with the other. She feels its little wings beating inside her fingertips. The eco is a conduit, a direct line to its helpless form. Maia hijacks the motor neurons in its flight muscles. An adjustment here and there, and the jeweled insect follows the path she traces. She grins.
Over the bubbling of the village's tiny fountain, Maia hears the stairs behind her squeak. She turns, expecting to see Samos screaming some tripe about the natural order of things. Instead, a boy plops down on the last wooden step leading up to the sage's hut. He leans against the railing, the handle of a broom resting against his cheek.
"Hello, little one," says Maia. The boy waves. "Escaping your chores?" He glances side-to-side and shrugs. "Samos always had me sweeping and my dear brother cleaning the windows. For a whole week of work, maybe he would show us 'the magic of a seed.' Dirt and water, not at all exciting. Samos is unfair about parceling out his knowledge."
The butterfly flips around in aerodynamically suicidal trajectories. Its primitive brain can't fight the incoming information; it looks just like normal, somatic waves. There is no electrochemical difference between this crazy dance and regular sensory input. Why can't it just land on the damn flower already?
"Have you ever seen dark eco?" The boy shakes his head. "Oh, a shame. Samos says all sorts of nasty things about it to you, I expect." With a puffed breath, Maia sets the butterfly free. It careens past the boy. His eyebrows cinch together as it blackens and crumbles away.
He points at the organic mist, already dispersing in the breeze, and then at Samos' house.
"Do not look so concerned!" Maia laughs. "That old man could hardly appreciate what you have just seen. Every living creature was made to follow certain rules. Surely Samos told you that. My brother and I, like all sages, don't want to break the rules. Just… rewrite them a bit."
The boy nods uncertainly.
"Our revisions are different from Samos'. He won't accept them. But that doesn't mean they're wrong." The boy stares at her blankly. "Ah, you're too young now to understand." Maia claps her hands.
Kids like clapping: it signals an abrupt change in the conversation. Kids are good at adapting. Maia notes this as the boy's eyes light up.
"I'm waiting for my brother." She sticks her thumb in the direction of the village. "He's bringing me a surprise. We're going to do something fun today. I picked this place because I was hoping you'd come down and find us. Would you like to stay and watch? Be my little guest of honor?"
His shoulders rise, just shy of the pink tingeing his ears.
"How old are you?"
The boy holds up both hands.
"Ten?" Maia grins. "So young and sweet. A lovely age." She stretches her legs and brushes carbonized flecks from the back of her orange boots. "Look," she points. A gaunt-faced man lurches down the path, cursing. Yellow sparkles litter the ground behind him. "There he is."
Gol hunches over like a yoked yakkow sinking into the rice patties. There is a flailing bundle of purple and gold pressed against his chest. An occasional pseudopod differentiates from the mass and swings at his jaw. Gol squashes part of the thing into his shoulder. Between his fingers, a big green eye glares.
As he nears, the colors distill. Maia and the boy can make out a white-faced creature beneath Gol's sneer. Every few seconds it sends a flash of gold down its body and Gol winces. Two tiny paws thud against his neck. They, like the rest of the struggling animal, are wrapped in a sizzling net of dark eco.
The boy gasps as he recognizes the creature. He smells burning fur.
"It's trying to get away," huffs Gol, dropping to his knees next to his sister. The Sculptor's muse growls. Maia studies the net, pinching the loose strands together. "It has its own magic. Doesn't use eco."
"Oh, poor little muse," says Maia, lifting its chin with her fingertips. It bares its teeth at her. "Have you run away again?" She chuckles.
Gol tethers it to the ground. The net burns crosshatches into the grass. The muse hisses, ears flat against its head. "Look how it reacts," says Gol.
"Yes," says Maia. "Snapping its magic across the eco nexuses. Trying to shed the net." She waits for the next wave of gold to pass and loops an eco strand around her finger. With a yank, the net tightens. The muse squeals, wiggling in its new, second skin of flashing purple. "If we force the net inside," Maia touches its shoulder, "between the muscles and the bones, we should be able to control it."
"Its magic is too strong. It won't let the eco in. I tried to saturate it, but it resisted." Gol crosses his legs. "We'll have to move the muse from the outside." He glances up, finally noticing the boy. Gol eyes him. "Samos' latest brainwash victim, no doubt. Did he send you here to spy?"
The boy shrinks back, holding the broomstick up to his chin.
"Don't be silly, brother." Maia's laugh is forced. "He's very important to dear Samos. Which means he should be friends with us."
"Oh. He's the one you were talking about." Gol studies the boy. "Samos has never let you out of his sight... never let us play with you before. You must be very important." He pushes the muse's head down to the ground and widens the eco into straps. "What do you want?"
"He's here to learn." Maia stands and walks to the stairs, holding out her hands. "You want to use eco, don't you, little one? Move it where you want it to go?" The boy grips the railing. Maia smiles and bends to look him in the eyes. "Come, now. Samos always talks about green eco. But does he ever share his secrets with you? Do you know how to use green eco?" The boy shakes his head. "Well, we have secrets, too. Marvelous secrets! We'll share them with you. Do you want to know a secret?"
The boy nods.
"Okay." Maia's eyes flash. "Come here."
Slowly, he reaches out his right hand. He clenches the broom in his left, watching Maia. Her helmet has big bug eyes and two swooping blades down the sides.
Sometimes Keira makes him squish spiders. The ones that get into the hut. The ones outside don't need to be squished.
"Perfect," she says, as her gloved hand slips around his. "I don't bite." Maia tugs him off the step and pulls him close. "Secret number one," she whispers, nose against his soft ear. "Samos is wrong. We can control dark eco. The next time he tells you dark eco is madness and destruction, laugh. Because he is wrong."
The boy blinks. Maia pats his head and leads him over to the muse. "Now, dear brother, why don't you give our new friend a demonstration?"
"As long as he stays quiet," mutters Gol. He grunts and heaves himself off the ground. The muse glares at him. He holds his arms up. "Sister, today, for the first time, we practice moving a complex magical creature against its will." Gol takes a deep breath. His fingers pluck the air; he snaps his wrists back to build up force.
The muse stands, resolute, its golden waves flashing faster now. A smug grin curls around its pointy teeth. Its ancestors didn't frolic across the Wasteland adapting complex defensive measures for the hell of it. Naught but a dark eco bomb can short-circuit this inspirational mammal's nervous system.
Gol leans back, pulling the air like rope, hand-over-hand. The grass at his feet smolders. He curses. The eco rushing between his brain and the muse must travel a convoluted path:
Gather power from the ground - down the forearms - through sharp nails - air (don't dissipate) - reunite! more eco in net-form - WRETCHED GOLD MAGIC - spiral away, around and around the muse - entrap! - pull, pull, pull…
He can feel the muse beneath his skin, all furry disobedience and itchy panic. Gol circles the animal, the tendons in his neck taut.
"See how he moves?" Maia asks. The boy shrugs. "His breathing? In with the power, out with the force to guide it."
Gol concentrates, one cheek twitching. Pull the eco net just so, and the radius threatens to shatter the ulna. Finally, the muse extends one shaking foreleg, then the other. It stares at its legs and howls. Somewhere in the village, the Sculptor jolts from his afternoon nap and feverishly hammers out a beautiful woman being eaten alive by a Lurker shark.
"Oh, you're doing it, brother!" Maia claps and nudges the boy. "See? The first step!"
Gol's breathing comes louder now, underscored with a faint, out-of-key rasp. Sweat trails down his face. The muse's tail uncurls and swings with timed regularity. It jerks its head from side to side, frantically pawing the ground with its back legs.
"We've never been able to influence something so big!" Maia fries some nearby tulips in celebration.
So many golden muse sparkles. They're crawling through Gol's consciousness, threatening to detoxify his personality. He shudders and blinks the salt from his eyes. He sinks to the grass, arms extended and hands trembling. Sensitive pulmonary arterioles rupture and bathe his lungs with an unsavory mix of phlegm, blood, and black magic. The pain is even worse than the taste. "Hhhcchh, hhhcch!"
For the first time in its life, the muse is itself inspired. The realization of impending defeat marches across Gol's face. The muse wriggles its shoulders. Yellow, razor-thin ribbons burst forth, cutting at the eco. Gol clutches his throat.
The muse spits and strains. With a final groan from Gol, the eco net snaps. Its tinged fur lightens and shines. Sleek and shiny, it looks like nothing has even happened to it. The boy jumps up, arms wide, conveying the muse as winner of the game. In lieu of an acceptance speech, the muse blurs the air
Maia drops to the ground. "Brother?" She wrenches his hands away and presses her fingertips up and down his neck. "It's nothing, it's nothing," she says. He pushes her away.
"I'm fine," Gol rasps. He falls forward and coughs into the earth. When he sits up again, wheezing and unsteady, black and red drip from the corners of his mouth.
He has coughed up some sort of sludge. It shines in the grass, sucking the green life from it. The boy looks away.
"You've done it!" says Maia. She watches the last of the golden sparks disappear behind the Mayor's house. "Won't dare run away again for a long time."
"It was much different than the fanged fish," says Gol. "The muse understands what's happening and uses its magic to counteract my- the eco's weakest points."
Maia nods. "We shall keep that in mind for future experiments." She eyes the boy, who smiles and puffs out his chest.
"Next time-" Gol thumps his chest until the breathiness is gone from his voice. "Need more practice." He swallows, grimacing. His teeth are laced with blood.
"Jak!"
The three turn. Samos, staff in hand, hovers at the bottom of the steps. Like all canyons, his frown grows deeper with each passing second.
"I thought I told you to sweep my lab!" He snaps his fingers at the boy. "Get up there, now!" Jak races up, broom smacking each consecutive stair. "As for you two… Come to mock me with your pseudo-sagery? Dark eco is not welcome here!"
"You are a fool, old man," says Gol, wiping his chin on the back of his hand. He spreads his arms and floats off the ground. For effect, he swings to the side so his coat ripples in the breeze. "See? We have also mastered the power of flight! And there is so much more we can do!"
"Indeed. You are blind to the possibilities," hisses Maia. She waves her hands in a lazy, curving pattern. The grass sizzles and dies; a vaporous cloud of dark eco flows up and around her. Fueled, she pushes off the ground, hovering next to her brother.
"Blind!" Samos shoots the patch with green eco, healing the leaves. Maia pouts and drops slightly in altitude. "You can never control dark eco. It will control you. Look at yourselves!"
They glance at each other and laugh.
"What? The skin?" Maia runs her fingers down the side of her gray face. "Just a side effect! Like yours! It means we've studied long enough to be true masters. Your mind is so closed, little man."
"Your hair is growing in white now, Maia." Samos shakes his head. "Dark eco shock. You're mutilating your bodies."
"We've seen things you cannot imagine," says Gol. "Did you really think the world couldn't extend past the limitations of your perception?"
Samos bangs his staff on the stair. "You've tried my patience long enough! I've warned you from the start, but you won't listen to wisdom. Get off my land. And stay away from Jak! The boy's only got one chance at a happy childhood. Let him have what you denied yourselves!"
"Happy childhood?" screeches Maia. She turns to Gol. "Brother, do you recall being reprimanded, denigrated, and made general fools of by Samos the godly Sage?"
"I remember a lot of dirty windows," says Gol.
"Cleaning builds character!" Samos zips around them. He waves his staff in Gol's face. "But you are obviously lacking. I should've sent you to the Fire Canyon to scrub the lava from the stones!"
"You think everything is about character," chuckles Maia. "The only inherent trait that really matters is strength. Control." She makes a fist. "The rest is varying degrees of competence."
"We have it over dark eco and you don't," states Gol. He swats at Samos. The old man rises higher, circling angrily. "Dare I say we have tactical advantages over you?"
"You were always the one lecturing on and on about the great things to come. Stop closing new minds to the possibilities of the future," says Maia.
"There will be no dark eco study in this town!"
"Or wha-"
Gol's question cuts out as he and Maia fall unceremoniously to the ground. Either there isn't enough eco in the area to keep them both aloft, or they have a lot of training to go, still. Maia curses and digs a heel into the moss. This is partially to spite Samos and partially to anchor her return to a bipedal status. The following stomp on the flowerbed is entirely to spite Samos.
"I shudder to think what would happen if you were to wield dark eco with any sort of actual control," snarls Samos. "It looks like you two will actually be spending most of your time on the ground. Pity, really." He makes a fist. The earth trembles. Flowers sprout with alarming speed and foliage. "Stop going through my plants to get your ridiculous, destructive eco."
"Ridiculous?!"
"Get out! And come back when you're ready for some serious, learned training." He pauses. "For people who aren't morons!" Samos turns and zooms up to the hut. An anti-dark eco sermon commences. It can be heard from the village.
"Damn it!" Gol punches a giant flower in the stamen. "We have to find a better source of eco. There's not enough just below the surface!"
"The boy will never learn our secrets with that palm frond standing in the way," mutters Maia.
"Forget him," shouts Gol. "I'm going to find the scroll if it kills me. There are only three scrolls in Ecoe Mechaniks of Metal Menn and we have the first two! The last one has to tell us where that Precursor robot is."
"But we've seeded doubt in his young mind."
"When I find that robot-"
"Jak is always questioning." Maia runs a hand through her long hair. "And you know how Samos is. The louder he yells about something, the more important it is." She taps the side of her helmet. "Perhaps Samos will train the boy to be the next green eco sage."
"Blasted-" Gol swats at an incoming horde of pollen-seeking butterflies. They swirl around him, causing his attack pattern to resemble that of a pirouetting infantryman.
"He is entranced by the appearance of dark eco," says Maia. "Oh, of course. He's a child! It is merely a sparkling toy to him."
Gol grunts.
"Uncouth, yes. But… imagine… if we got him started early on dark eco tolerance! Samos would be furious! And once he's been touched by it, there is no undoing."
"But how are we going to get him away from the old fungus?" Gol decapitates a sunflower and heaves it at the stairs. There is a green flash and it explodes. The debris cloud illuminates a thin grid. "We can't get near the house. It's protected by a green eco shield. Reactionary."
"The boy will come to us."
Jak, curled in a nest of blankets beneath the window, sighs. His uncle snores deep and loud from the big bed across the hut. Jak has long ago learned to filter it out. But tonight he stares at the ceiling. The wooden beams cross and bend and fade away in the darkness.
Samos was very angry when he had returned to the lab. "Don't you listen to those idiots," he warned. "You are not to go near them again. Don't you remember what I told you about dark eco, boy?"
Jak was stooped over, sweeping dead leaves. He nodded.
"It's dangerous! Boils the sap, rots the flesh! If you're not crazy already, your brain will be rattling in your skull before long!" Samos thumped the back of the boy's head. "Get that through your tiny mind right now, Jak. Once you've touched the stuff, you're never the same! And the worl- ah, I need you just the way you are. Now get back to work!"
And there was no more talk of Maia and Gol. Jak frowns. They didn't seem to be mean. The muse wasn't hurt at all. In fact, it had won the game. It probably ran home to tell the Sculptor, who-
Purple sparks in the corner of his eye. He whips around. Nothing outside the window. He waits a moment, staring into the night sky.
Just stars.
Jak shrugs and snuggles deeper into the blankets. The Sculptor is probably carving the muse a little trophy right now. Jak strains his ears, but if the hammer is ting-ting-tinging a hut away, the snoring drowns it out.
Maybe eco can be used for something other than making flowers grow. Jak has never thought about it before. Samos and his green magic exist in the background, two more distractions from daily play. The idea of actually doing something with eco fascinates Jak.
Another spark! This time Jak knows it happened. He was staring out the window and definitely saw it. Kicking his little legs, he squirms up and leans against the windowsill. There! Outside, where clouds of moths deathspiral around bridge lights, someone is setting off purple firecrackers.
Jak springs off the bed and races for the door, pausing just long enough to open and shut it without a sound. The night is warm and quiet. Jak tilts his head; he doesn't hear firecrackers. And it looks like they're coming from the water.
This is strange.
The firecrackers are also the same color as the sparkly purple stuff Gol and Maia used. Except it's more… Jak doesn't know a word for it. It's thicker. More intense and bright in the dark, the opposite of white beach glass held up to the sun.
This is very strange. Jak grins. "Very strange" is an open invitation for adventure.
He plows through the moths and hoists himself over the bridge railing. A family of pale starfish scatters. From the center of the stream, a fountain of dark eco fires sparks at his hut. Helices of smoke, tipped with bits of eco, rise to the stars. Indigenous life forms blacken and die. Jak leans forward. As if it has sensed him, the glittering fog collapses into itself and charges into the sea.
Without a second thought, he takes off after it.
Jak sprints around his Uncle's house and picks up a trail around the stilts to the fisherman's pier. He darts between the wood pillars, grinning. The dark eco skims the water surface, cutting through the tiny waves that challenge it. Now he's running- he skids around the fountain and passes the Mayor's house. Gotta keep the eco trail on his left. He flies across another bridge, glances at the Sculptor's dark hut, and runs down to Sentinel Beach. His feet barely sink into the sand, he is going so fast.
The purple ribbon narrows to a thread. Jak veers closer to the water. When he gets to the bay, his calves are burning. The dark eco wave disappears. Panting, he bends and grabs his knees.
Where did it go?
Need air…
He squints across the bay, down the row of ancient sentinels, and sees the fountain shooting up somewhere on the other side. After another gulp of air, he splashes into the water. He swims around the island where the pelicans sleep, folded up tight in their wings. There are little white dots in the water. When he nears, they disappear. It takes him a few minutes to realize they are constellations, trapped in rippling reflections.
Jak can see more clearly now. The purple sparks are coming from the far side of the second sentinel. Every few seconds they darken. Something long passes between them and Jak.
Climbing out of water and trudging across sand has always been his least favorite part of swimming. He struggles down the last part of the beach. Jak's clothes stick to his skin. He feels like his arms are made of Precursor metal.
"Hello, little one."
And then he sees them.
They're flying.
Jak shivers, his foot wraps clumping the sand.
Maia swoops down. Her white eyebrows stand out even more than her shiny teeth. "Oh, he's soaking." Maia sweeps a finger across his cheek, wiping the drops away. "Do you like the lights?"
Jak nods. Gol's circling makes his eyes hurt. The eco fountain crackles and dies. Now it's very dark over here. Jak takes a step back and rams his heel into the sentinel step. He cries out, a high-pitched, strangled sound.
"Don't be afraid!" Maia smiles and pats his ears. Her gloves are cold and smooth. "Let's relax, hmm?" She sits on the step. "Gol, get down. You're scaring him." She points to the sand in front of her. "Right here. Sit, Jak."
He doesn't relax until Gol hits the beach with a soft thud. Maia leans over Jak, her hair brushing his shoulders until she pushes it back. "The second secret of dark eco," she says, "is that, if you train correctly, it can't hurt you."
Gol nods. He rubs his hands together, then feels along the sand. "Should be some right here…"
"Remember, Samos is wrong. It can be controlled. And great beauty comes from it." She flourishes her arms. "Just look at me. Lovely, no?"
Jak laughs a little, a soundless shaking of the shoulders.
"Eco is a magical force," says Maia. "You can take it in and let it out again. It is power. And, like all power-"
"Here it is!"
"-it ought to be used."
Gol leans towards Jak and raises his hands. "Ready, child?" Before he can answer, Gol's hands erupt in purple flames. Pure and chilly, they suck the warmth from Jak's cheeks. He gasps. The purple fire twists and rages, throwing iridescent shadows across the sand. Light scatters over Gol's craggy, grinning face. Blinking furiously, Jak squints at his palms. They are dark, radiating veins of black through each finger.
"Watch," Maia commands. She slides two fingers into the heart of the fire. "No pain." Jak leans back. "Try it."
Samos' warning words flutter around his mind. How could something so pretty be bad? Would he crumble, like the butterfly? He seriously doubts he can make magical golden sparkles, like the muse.
"Come on," Maia searches the corners of her mind for the right word, "sweety."
His stomach turns. He feels like he's balancing on the top of the stairway, both feet flat on the railing, Keira's shrieks in the background. Somehow, and he's not really sure why, he knows that this is a Special Point In Time. Sometimes Samos rants about those. This one is gnawing at his gut. He knows if he doesn't touch the magical stuff now, he will have to do it later.
Oh, but, that's silly. It will always be his choice.
Right?